


Don't Worry, I Hate You Too (Pottertalia)

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia, M/M, Multi, Pottertalia, PruHun, USUK - Freeform, ameripan - Freeform, aushun, gerita - Freeform, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's get something straight here-Arthur Kirkland did nothing wrong. It was, and always will be, the fault of that reckless, obnoxious, egotastic and painfully American fifth year Gryffindor named Alfred Jones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Worry, I Hate You Too (Pottertalia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur Kirkland tries to figure out which irritates hime more: Gryffindors or Americans?

Arthur Kirkland had many vivid memories of his years spent at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but this had to be one of the worst memories he would ever have. The Detention Chamber, a place he'd never dreamed of visiting, was lit by the bright chandeliers that swayed dubiously overhead. The muck covered stone walls provided no heat, which was rather unfortunate considering the only thing he had on was his regular Slytherin uniform. And though a cloud of tiredness seemed to hang throughout the entire chamber, they had still given him work to do while he sat in the uncomfortable desk in the far left corner of the room. Arthur frustratedly blew his golden hair out of his eyes. He really did need a haircut. His quill stabbed furiously at the parchment he was given to write on. The whole page was filled with the same line scribbled over and over again: I will not charm my fellow students. 

Charm other students, he thought to himself. They should be happy I didn't use a locomotion charm and fling them through the bloody Quidditch hoop. He sighed audibly and looked over at the boy in the room with him. Just looking at him made Arthur lose his patience. Alfred Jones sat a row away from him in a seat set diagonally from Arthur's. Unlike Arthur, Alfred's parchment had five words on it and his quill rested on his desk. Alfred's head was propped up on his knuckles and his blue eyes were lost in something on the chalkboard at the front of the room. He looked positively useless. His shirt was untucked, his tie was too loose, his robe was falling off his left shoulder, and there was a tired sag to his face. Pathetic, Arthur thought about the Gryffindor boy. As though hearing Arthur's mental insult, Alfred's attention was whipped from the chalkboard and unto Arthur. 

Arthur's face contorted in confusion. Alfred smirked. 

Scoffing, Arthur stood and walked up to the desk at the front of the room and took a new piece of parchment from the stack that had been left there for them. He could feel Alfred's blue eyes on his back as he walked back to his place and took his seat. Arthur dabbed the quill in ink, and just as he was about to start writing, he heard that American accent pierce the silence. 

"Arthur?" Arthur paused momentarily. He did not look up. "Arthuuuuurr," obnoxiously whined the American Gryffindor. Arthur ignored him once again. "Arthur, can you get me another piece of paper please?" Alfred asked. Arthur set his jaw and rolled his eyes. He turned in his seat and faced Alfred. The American was slouched over the wooden desk, his parchment folded and crushed under him. A great way to get ink stains on his shirt, Arthur thought. The Slytherin shook his head. "No, you have paper there. And seeing as how much you've accomplished in an hour I would get to work if I were you," he snapped. Alfred's eyebrows came together. Arthur turned back around, set on completing his work. "Well actually," Alfred started again. What did I do to deserve this, Arthur thought as he clenched his quill tighter. "I wasn't going to write on the parchment. I wanted to make some origami figures and charm them later. So they could, y'know, move around and stuff." At this, Arthur turned to stare at the American boy. He certainly wasn't joking, for no humor was located in his blue eyes framed by square glasses. Arthur couldn't believe how irresponsible some people were. "You do know," he started, "that if we don't complete our work, they'll make you come back here tomorrow and do it?" Alfred smirked at this. Again with the smirking. Arthur hated it. It made him want to charm him again like he did earlier that day. Arthur hated everything about this boy. His carelessness, his cocky aura, his cheeriness, and the way that his eyes sparkled under these lights... Arthur pinched his wrist. Stop that, he thought. "Well actually, that's not true," Alfred said, sitting up in his chair. Arthur ignored the ink splotches on Alfred's shirt and continued to listen. "My friend Mathias never finishes his work and they never make him come back. They only say that so you finish your work."

A part of Arthur thought of this as true. He knew plenty of bad kids who would never do their detention work and knew that they never got sent back. But another part of him, the stubborn analytical part, disagreed with Alfred's statement, simply because it had been uttered by Alfred himself. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you take me for a fool?" he asked rhetorically. Alfred huffed as Arthur turned around again. "Well, you're sure as hell acting like one."

"Excuse me?" Arthur questioned venomously. Alfred's calm disposition was no longer plastered onto his face. Instead he looked just a little bit pissed off. "Maybe if you got your head out of your ass you would've heard me," Alfred retorted, crossing his arms. Arthur supposed he was being a bit cold towards Alfred, but he had every right to be angry at the Gryffindor. He was the reason he was here in the first place. "How dare you even speak to me," Arthur shot back. "If I had my wand, I'd-"

"You'd what? Petrify me like you did earlier today? Oh boy, I sure am scared," Alfred snapped. Arthur gaped. He was blaming him? Alfred was blaming him?

"Ohhh no, no, no, that was all your fault Jones-"

"Oh was it? Was I the one who petrified myself?"

"If you and your little sixth-year friend-"

"His name is Mathias!"

"-hadn't been sabotaging Slytherin's Quidditch practice-"

"We had every right to!"

"-then I wouldn't have had to charm you to stop messing with their drills!"

"This isn't my fault, this is yours!"

"And now I get to be in this smelly dungeon with you when I should be studying for my OWLs!"

"This is your fault, Kirkland!"

"You're an idiot, Jones!"

The two boys both slouched back into their seats with scowls pasted into their faces. Arthur could feel his heart thumping in his chest rapidly. His skin felt hot and he wanted to punch something—preferably Alfred's defined jaw. He'd be more than willing to bruise that boy's jaw. But now, sitting down in the uncomfortable desk and letting the adrenaline slowly, slowly fade from his bloodstream, he wondered if this really was his fault. Arthur knew that he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but wasn't he the one who had snuck into the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team practice? Wasn't he the one that thought if he stopped the two Gryffindors sabotaging the practice, then maybe he might get recognized by the head of Slytherin as somewhat of a hero? He bit his lip hard. This isn't my fault, he thought angrily. It's all the fault of that egotastic idiot, Jones.

He was just about to stop pouting and get back to work when he was interrupted yet again. "Arthur," the American called.

There really was no end to this was there?

"What, Jones?" Arthur said angrily as he turned to glare at the American. Expecting to be greeted by a furious blue stare, he was instead surprised to see a conflicted gaze in Alfred's eyes. Arthur almost stopped glaring. Almost.

"I was thinking," Alfred said. Arthur laughed sarcastically under his breath, "That's dangerous."

Alfred leveled his stare on Arthur. Arthur cleared his throat nervously—Nervously? he thought—and nodded to Alfred. "Continue."

"Anyways, I was thinking, well, maybe this is both our faults. I shouldn't have been messing with the practice even though it was really funny when I made that one guy fly into the goal post and knock out a tooth—hey, don't look at me like that. And maybe you shouldn't have charmed Mathias and I when you saw us. Especially since the one charm you used froze Mathias in ice." Arthur winced slightly at the memory of him freezing his sixth-year whom Alfred had been scurrying along with. It wasn't like he meant to encase the boy in ice... He had just forgotten the correct charm, and too late did he realize he had said the wrong thing. As for Alfred, well, he was lucky. Arthur used the right charm on Alfred. 

"How is that boy doing?" Arthur asked sounding as unconcerned as he possibly could. Alfred surprised the Brit by laughing out loud. Arthur was confused yet again.

After laughing nearly to tears, Alfred took a few breaths. "Ohhh, don't you worry about Mathias. He's doing just fine, no thanks to you. He's from Denmark so I'm sure he's used to the cold," Alfred joked. Arthur rolled his eyes at Alfred's obnoxious laughter. Clearly the Dane and the American were close friends. Alfred continued with his little monologue. "But back to the subject, we're both to blame for what happened. So I wanna make a proposal: we forget this whole thing ever happened, and we start all over like we never met. No, scratch that. Let's just pretend we even met in the first place. What do you say, Kirkland?" Alfred held out an hand to Arthur. "Personally, I don't want to remember this day at all."

And of course, Arthur had to hesitate, He had to take the time to stop and think of what could go wrong if he befriended this Gryffindor boy who's smile made him want to rip out his hair and who's personality was too irritating from someone as pessimistic as Arthur. He thought of the rivalry between the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. He wondered what they would think of him if he suddenly became friends with this Gryffindor boy who was good at everything he did, had tons of friends and girls all over him, and smiled at him with those optimistic blue eyes that were always so full of joy. Alfred had to be lying, had to be playing some sort of joke to make his little posse of friends laugh. Arthur felt a new type of hate blossom in his chest. He rolled his eyes and looked up at Alfred. "Listen Jones," he said, his irritation returning. "I'd like to make one thing clear. We will never, ever, ever be friends. Understand? After tonight, you'll go back to being the crazy idiot that you are, and I'll go back to being me, okay? And don't try to be friends with me again."

Arthur didn't know what guilt felt like but he assumed that what he felt in that moment could be defined as guilt. Alfred's face fell slightly with his hand as he registered the words that Arthur had just said to him. He didn't look sad or angry. He just looked... disappointed. He bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged. "Sure. Yeah, that's fine." Alfred paused. "But you know, I was just trying to help you out," he said. There was something in Alfred's voice. Something like...warning. Arthur raised one eyebrow, "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well," Alfred said, "since I got suspended from the Quidditch team for a while, I have a lot of time on my hands now. I really need help studying for my OWLs... And you owe me Arthur. You're the reason why I got suspended."

"And why should I believe that," Arthur asked incredulously. With a smirk, Alfred looked up at Arthur. Oh God, what have I done, Arthur thought as he mentally cursed the boy in front of him.

"I'm suspended from Quidditch for two months because of you. This is the least you can do to make it up to me," said Alfred, he shifted in his seat a little to lean in on his knees. "Besides, this is stuff you should already be a scholar at. Studying with me should be a breeze. Maybe it'll even help an uptight virgin like you loosen up a bit" Arthur resisted the urge to choke Alfred. He knew that saying anything could and would be held against him in the future. This was not the time to worry about his reputation or his virginity. 

Arthur glared daggers into Alfred's smiling fucking face. "Fine. But to repay me, you have to do all my potions homework. And we study on my time, not yours." Alfred considered this for a second. Perhaps potions would be a bit too advanced for someone with the brains of a Neanderthal, but before Arthur could think about changing his part of the deal, Alfred nodded.

"So is this a deal?" he asked putting out a hand with confidence. Or cockiness.

Arthur knew he was making a mistake. He took Alfred's hand and shook. "Deal."

-

Four o'clock was usually a good hour of the day for Arthur. Well, hence the word "usually". At four, sixth period was over and he was granted two hours to do as he pleased until it was time for him to go to the Great Hall to eat. In the time between his classes and dinner he usually found himself finishing homework or... or...doing something else... It's not like he did homework all the time...

But now, his four o'clock was being occupied by a certain asshole American who was now wasting his time with study sessions that would probably end up being fruitless after they were all over. It had already been a long tiresome day and he yearned to be back in his room where at least he had some privacy (aside from the Romanian boy who slept in the bed next to him, but he didn't bother Arthur much). Now he sat in the library with a stack and a half of books set in front of him as he dreaded the arrival of Alfred Jones. He checked his watch: 4:06. Maybe Alfred had forgotten. Sighing he opened up one of the books on Herbology. Paragraphs, and minutes later, he flipped the page and yawned. It was dark and quiet in the library, and he was so tired. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then a moment turned into a minute, and a minute turned in two minutes. Who bloody cares anymore, he thought as his consciousness faded away...

Suddenly there was a loud pop and several gasps as through the door burst four boys rushing through the library. Arthur sat up quickly and examined the scene before him. He didn't need to look long before the situation was announced. "Bewitched bludger on the loose!" called a boy Arthur recognised from class. 

All four boys sprinted past the bookshelves, over desks, pushing past people and books alike to try and get to the bludger that was causing utter chaos in the library. Arthur now knew who they were. Gryffindor Mathias Køhler and Ravenclaw Gilbert Beilschmidt, both sixth-years like Arthur, a boy he knew as Henri Mogens, a fourth-year Slytherin with two older siblings, and none other than Alfred Jones, the asshole himself. All four of them had spread out across the library to cover more ground to catch the bludger. Each one was simply set on getting the rogue ball that was wrecking havoc in the now chaotic library. But the bludger had different plans. It smacked into bookshelves, thumped against students who didn't get out of the way in time, and cracked into tables sending a flutter papers in its trail. Mathias, who was closest to the bludger, jumped on top of a table, stepping onto people's hands and books as he sprinted towards the rogue ball. He looked determined, ready to stop the ball. The table was coming to an end all too soon and the bludger was getting farther and farther out of reach. At long last Mathias could do nothing more than take a giant leap towards the ball. Everything went in slow motion for a second. The bludger, right center with Mathias. Mathias, hands extended, grasping for the bludger. The whoosh sound of air and the tiny gasp Mathias let out as his finger's brushed the bludger, and the defeat on his face as the bludger switched directions. Mathias was suspended in the air for a few seconds more before he crashed loudly into a bookshelf and was buried under a pile of rather thick books. Time unfroze and the bludger was back to its normal, dangerously fast speed. 

Alfred, now set on getting the bludger, pumped his arms faster and willed himself to gain more speed. He was smart enough to know that he couldn't just leap onto the bludger and expect it to stop. He would need to use a counter-curse of some type to stop it from destroying the library. But the stupid ball kept moving around and around, it would be nearly impossible to get a clear shot on it. He looked over to his left where Henri, the Slytherin boy from Luxembourg who had been practicing with them was running adjacent to the bludger. He wasn't the most graceful but Alfred knew that this kid was good at spells. He kept his head on a swivel as he called to Henri: "Hey! Try using a counter-curse," he yelled. Henri looked over at the American and nodded before taking the lead in their chase.

Alfred took out his wand and came to a standstill. He trained his eyes on the bludger as it whipped from left to right and up and down and back again. His wand followed the ball, aiming, trying to get a clear shot. He knew this wouldn't end well, but what did he have to lose? He was already suspended from Quidditch as it was. Alfred shut one eyes and watched as the bludger slammed through two shelves, and then came into his view. Just another second, he thought. The bludger changed directions again and was coming into Alfred's range. He gripped his wand tightly, and juts when he thought it was too late, he yelled, "Finite!"

He was knocked back by something that felt like a forceful wind, and landed on his tailbone, straight into a pile of Herbology books. He heard noise like an explosion, but didn't bother to look up and see what happened. His vision was blurry and there was a sharp pain in his lower back. Alfred gathered up the willpower to push the books off his body and shake his head, trying to focus on his surroundings. "Hey Alfred!" called Gilbert. Alfred turned to his right and saw the albino boy jogging to him through the mess of papers and smashed bits of bludger. He knelt next to Alfred and smiled. "You got that bludger and saved the library!" Gilbert paused, thinking. As he looked around the library with his strange ruby colored eyes, realization dawned on him. "Well, actually, you didn't save the library at all. This place is a mess! Ohhh, we're gonna get in soooo much trouble... Probably detention for a year! Eliza will-" Alfred adjusted his glasses and held out a hand to a babbling Gilbert, who helped him to his feet. He didn't care about the fact that they would lose an excruciating amount of points for their houses, or the fact that they would definitely be in detention for another week. He was worried about Mathias, who still hadn't gotten up from the avalanche of literature that he had been inhumed in. He nudged past Gilbert and tripped his way over to the spot where he had seen Mathias fall. Henri Mogens was kneeling over what looked to be Mathias.

As Alfred approached the first this he noticed about Mathias was the goofy smile that played on his lips. His eyes were half-lidden and was he...laughing? "Mat," Alfred said as he knelt down beside Mathias. "Are you...okay?" Mathias looked over at Alfred and giggled. There was a cut on his hairline, the red of blood mixing with his blond, gravity-defying hair. 

"Oh, my God, did you see how bad I wiped out!" he drawled, laughing again. He flopped his head back for a moment and then turned to Alfred again. "Nor is gonna kill me," he said dreamily. "And not in the good way." Alfred ignored what he suspected to be an innuendo. He looked over his shoulder at a slightly concerned, slightly troubled Gilbert. Alfred nodded his head in the direction of Mathias. "Gil, take him to the infirmary. He's definitely got some sort of concussion." Gilbert groaned and shuffled to Mathias, who was now trying to read a passage about some type of lily. "Can't you at least save the head injuries for Quidditch next time?" Gil groaned. Gilbert and Henri pulled the boy to his feet, Gilbert muttering German curses under his breath and Henri going on about how his brother was going to kill him for destroying his bludger. Alfred patted Mathias' back as the boys dragged him off. He placed his hands on his hips and looked at the scene before him. He whistled. I'm going to be spending my entire year in detention, he thought in dismay. Just when he thought this couldn't get any worse, he turned around to see big bushy eyebrows, displeased verdant eyes, and a scowl that he'd seen more in one week than he'd ever seen in his life. 

Arthur Kirkland's arms were crossed and his eyes were full of concern, though for what Alfred would never know. His heart beat quickly and he rubbed the nape of his neck. Was he sweating? He took a step towards Arthur and smiled in a way he knew irritated Arthur. "Heh-hey, Arthur, my pal," he said, taking a chance and throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulder. The Brit tensed noticeably. "I see you're on time for our study session."

"Yes, I'm on time, but you're extremely late and you're a complete idiot. You and your stupid Quidditch player friends just about destroyed the library. And how convenient, on the day you said we were going to study," Arthur said. He threw Alfred's arm off his shoulder. Alfred looked at Arthur with anger and opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off. "Lucky for us, we have the whole day off tomorrow. I'll expect you to be waiting outside the Slytherin Common Room promptly at six in the morning. From there we will study. Since you need to study for you OWLs oh so badly."

Alfred glared into Arthur's green eyes. He hated the pessimistic Brit whom had entered his life days ago and was set on making it very difficult for him. He exhaled and broke their stare. He didn't like showing weakness, but he knew he could do nothing more. Arthur seemed pleased with himself. He knelt down, with just a tiny smirk, and picked up a Potions book, shoving it into Alfred's gut. "And, do remember to complete my potions homework. It would be quite unfortunate for you if it's marked as incomplete." And with that, Arthur spun around and walked away proudly, robes swinging behind him. 

Alfred sighed and shook his head. I should've kicked his ass by now, Alfred thought as he threw the potions book across the room. Why do I like messing with that asshole Brit so much?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guss this is what I'll be working on for the next few month! Basically, my girlfriend and I love Pottertalia so, guess who started a fanfic :') Anyways, I'm definitely considering on making this into a series but it all depends on how people react to it.
> 
> ALSOOoOoOo: bear with me, I haven't read Harry Potter since sixth grade so it's all a bit blurry. I'm going to try my best!!


End file.
